


Stiles Pine Tree Stilinski

by sebsteve



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek thinks he's funny, Feelings, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Rain, Smut, Teasing, but nobody's watching, first attempt at smut lmao, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebsteve/pseuds/sebsteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Stiles locks himself out of his car, gets caught in the rain, has to call Derek for help that turns out to not help at all, and ends up blowing Derek against the Jeep because he's just so tired of idly sitting by and pining, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Pine Tree Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea of sterek & car blowjobs in my head for like a week and I feel like a dirty, dirty sinner but I couldn't hold it back anymore. So, this happened, and I am not even that sorry tbh. This is my first attempt at smut and I am very sorry if it's absolute trash. Also, it's unbeta-d and I also apologize for any typos you see, I am kind of a piece of lettuce.

Stiles was the master of pining.

Seriously, if he somehow managed to pine any harder, he'd end up a fucking pine tree. Although, maybe smelling like the nature Derek's wolf seemed to enjoy so much would make him cast a second glance Stiles' way. Maybe becoming one with nature wouldn't be so bad after all.

Stiles sighed, leaning his head against the Jeep window, trying his hardest not to look at Derek in the driver's seat. His life was a big joke, really.

Scott had been otherwise occupied with Kira, as per usual, having some special kind of date night. Stiles, being the dumbass he hated to admit that he was, had locked his keys in his Jeep and been unable to get inside the damn thing, even as it started pouring. He hadn't had any other choice but to call Derek, demanding that he come help Stiles before he actually drowned from the force of the sky's downpour.

Stiles really shouldn't have expected any less than Derek putting his fist through the driver's window, reaching a hand in the window to unlock the door before holding it open like he'd just done a wonderful deed. Stiles had just grunted and climbed into the passenger's seat. He absolutely refused to drive home with the rain pelting him even from inside his car, especially not when he couldn't even manage to be that mad at Derek. Not with the way his lips were twitching as he tried to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble out from his ironic special display of Derek-help to Stiles' baby.

After hazarding a glance at Derek, Stiles could still spot the faint twitching of Derek's lips. The ass clearly thought himself to be hilarious, even as the rain coated his entire left side, matting his hair down in a way Stiles desperately tried to remind himself was not adorable in any way.

“I hate you.”

Derek looked over at Stiles when they reached a red light, his mouth winning over and stretching into one of his rare grins. That smile coupled with his ever-present scruff did things to Stiles. Dirty things - things he hoped Derek couldn't smell over the rain.

Stiles didn't even let him respond, simply letting out a loud and aggravated groan in response.

Derek had no damn right. No damn right to look at Stiles with laughter swimming in his eyes, eyes that couldn't be accurately described with a single color. No freaking right to come to Stiles' aid like one of those white knights Stiles refused to believe existed, only to bust open his window and leave Stiles too smitten with his stupid bunny teeth to really be all that angry about it.

“Yep, definitely hate you, Derek Hale,” he muttered to himself, leaning his head back against the window. 

Derek's laughter rang out in the confined space of the car, his shoulders shaking with the force of his own amusement. Stiles couldn't take it, leaning toward Derek to shove at his shoulder, not even caring at that point if it caused Derek to swerve off the road. Derek barely budged, darn his werewolf strength, fixing Stiles within his gaze and letting the grin on his face spread.

Stiles felt like exploding, a combination of situational anger and pent up sexual frustration caused by the big and not-so-bad Derek Hale causing something inside of him to snap. “Pull over.”

“What?” Stiles wasn't looking at Derek, staring straight ahead instead, but could accurately guess that Derek's eyebrows were making their way towards his hairline.

“Pull. Over.”

Derek surprisingly did, leaving his hands to rest on the wheel, turning toward Stiles in question, oblivious to the rain still coming in the window and soaking him. 

“I am so tired of pretending like I don't want to straddle you every second of every day. Like, dude, no one's jawline should look like that, neither should their fucking shoulders,” Stiles began, the words spilling out in the word-vomit he had long ago stopped trying to control; no use controlling the uncontrollable, he had learned. “I mean, come on, since when were simple things like eyebrows attractive? Fuck you, Derek, man, fuck you for coming to help me and being an ass about it, only to be so attractive doing it that I only want to kiss your stupid face off.”

To Derek's credit, he was certainly handling the words well. His knuckles were a bit white where they were clutching the steering wheel, his eyes a bit too wide, but he wasn't ripping off any of Stiles' appendages or swerving into a ditch.

“Stunned speechless, not a single word to offer, why am I not surprised?” Stiles muttered, slumping against his seat and gesturing for Derek to start the car again and get through their now terribly awkward situation.

He did start the car, pulling them back into the line of traffic, before speaking. “Uh, me, too.”

“Huh?”

“I think about that, too.”

Stiles was either on some wonderful, wonderful hallucinogenic drug or he'd been hit over the head by something hard and heavy. Still, he didn't want to push the subject further, fearing it'd cause Derek to lapse into one of his brooding moods, the ones where he didn't speak until Stiles poked and prodded him into almost shifting in frustration.

Still, he decided to test the waters, just not with his words, at least this once. Stiles continued to face the window, reaching out his hand and casually resting it on Derek's upper thigh. Stiles tried not to feel a rush of power when Derek jumped and pressed a little too hard on the gas pedal, accelerating them forward in a way that should have probably been more dangerous than hot. 

Derek made no move to comment, either trying to ignore it or at a loss for words, so Stiles took that to be as good of a green light as he'd get. He slowly inched his hand up further, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing Derek's zipper before moving up just a bit to rest at the waistband of his jeans, a finger, then two, dipping inside.

“Stiles.”

Derek's voice was clearly strained, his knuckles turning whiter as he squeezed the steering wheel between his hands, and Stiles be damned if he said that wasn't the single hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Stiles just inched his fingers down further, messing with the top of Derek's boxers, his fingers brushing against the warm skin hidden beneath the fabric. He was leaning almost uncomfortably toward Derek now, still trying to appear casual even though they were separated by the console between them and Stiles' hand was inching down Derek's underwear, but it was oh so worth it to watch Derek mentally try to re-grab a hold of his control.

Feeling emboldened by Derek's reactions thus far, Stiles flicked open the button on Derek's pants, venturing further down with his whole hand, wrapping his fingers around Derek's length.

Derek swore so loudly Stiles jumped, his fingers tightening around Derek and dragging a strangled groan from the older man. Derek pulled over again, swerving in front of a car in his haste to get to the side of the road. Parking, Derek grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled it from his pants, fixing Stiles within his gaze.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

Stiles' first instinct was to apologize, to say that he should never have overstepped their obvious boundaries, but a quick glance at Derek's lap showed that Derek was absolutely interested. Stiles couldn't help but feel his pants tightening in response, a warmth enveloping him as he realized that he'd caused Derek to react that way, to get hard.

“Depends on your definition of crazy, Der,” he replied, trying to appear casual.

“Don't call me that, Stiles, we've been through this,” Derek sighed, leaning forward to rest his head against the steering wheel, not making any move to button his pants back up.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Want some help with that, buddy?”

Stiles stifled a scream when Derek's hand shot out and grabbed him by his shirt, fisting in the weak fabric there and pulling Stiles' mouth to his. Derek kissed in the way Stiles had always hoped he would, passionate and deep with a hint of edge to it that made Stiles weak in the knees. Derek's lips were softer than Stiles' own, eliciting a groan from somewhere in Stiles' throat when Derek grazed just a hint of his teeth against Stiles' bottom lip. 

Stiles shoved both of his hands into Derek's hair, clutching at the strands desperately, wanting to get closer than the console between them would ever allow. Derek was twisted uncomfortably in his own seat, one hand still holding onto the front of Stiles' shirt, keeping him close to him, the other slowly inching up the front of his shirt, searing the skin there with each brush of his fingers.

They broke apart for air, not making any move to separate further, still close enough that their breathing could be felt on the other's lips, a warm reminder of what they'd just done. Before Stiles could begin freaking out, or shoot off in his pants embarrassingly from the sight of Derek's swollen and red lips alone, Derek begin kissing a hot trail down the side of Stiles' neck, using his teeth every now and then. The sweet nip of teeth against the gentle skin of his neck was a feeling so good Stiles could only moan in response, trying to wiggle closer to Derek.

Stiles let out a particularly embarrassing moan when Derek sucked a mark into the side of his neck, leaving Stiles with a reminder he could see the next day, Derek raising his head to nip at Stiles' chin and then make his way back up to his lips. 

“God, Stiles,” he muttered against his lips, their lips just barely brushing.

Stiles pressed a quick kiss to Derek's lips, his mind a mess of arousal and all the feelings he'd suppressed for Derek. He reached out a hand and palmed Derek through his jeans, smiling against the older man's mouth when he groaned against their lips, pressing down harder and enjoying the way that all of the air in Derek's lungs seemed to leave his mouth as if, it too, was in a rush to enter Stiles' own body.

“I'm going to take you right here if you don't stop teasing me, god dammit,” Derek said into Stiles' neck, his breath sending tingles down Stiles' spine as he grasped Derek through the thick fabric of his jeans, his words sending a jolt through his entire body.

“Get out,” Stiles pushed at Derek's chest, reaching over him to shove the door open. “I want to try something.”

Derek complied, leaning against the side of the car not facing the highway, his lips red and swollen, pupils blown wide as he watched Stiles sink to his knees in front of him. Stiles bit his lip, the pouring rain having dissipated into a slow drizzle that dripped into his hair and shoulders as he worked Derek's pants down his hips and then his thighs.

“Stiles...” Derek said softly, bringing his hand to rest on Stiles' shoulder. “You don't – you don't have to.”

Stiles felt a surge of compassion for the man, wanting to simultaneously blow his mind out through his dick and cradle him to his chest to protect him from his own self-doubt. He settled on rolling his eyes, hooking a finger in Derek's boxers and dragging them down his legs at an agonizing pace. When he was eye level with all that Derek was packing, he had to reach a hand down to palm his own length through his pants, the sight before him too hot for him to even comprehend.

Derek had been the star in many, many of Stiles' sexual fantasies, whether it be working him open with his large fingers and pressing Stiles into the mattress as he pounded into him, or writhing beneath Stiles as he sucked him deep into his throat, but none of it could even hold a flame to the real deal.

Stiles pressed forward, tentatively swiping his tongue along the length of Derek, wrapping his lips around the head. Derek's answering groan was the best kind of encouragement, the hand on Stiles' shoulder tightening and the other hovering above his head, as if wanting to grasp the dark strands there, but not sure if he could, a sweet hesitance Stiles would put a stop to immediately. Stiles pulled back long enough to press Derek's hovering hand into his hair, letting out a whimper of his own as Derek's fingers pulled on the strands, leaning forward to take more of Derek into his mouth.

Derek was a warm and heavy weight in his mouth, tasting like a combination of the woodsy scent he always seemed to have and something a bit spicier, maybe his body wash or something different altogether. Either way, it went straight to Stiles' dick, pressing uncomfortably against his own jeans as he took more of Derek into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and slowly working Derek into his throat. Derek's thighs were trembling beneath Stiles' palms, his breath coming in quick pants as Stiles' tongue flicked along his length, the suction of Stiles' mouth a torturous heat Derek wanted to both push further into and back way from in order to preserve the wonderful feeling. 

When Derek hit the back of Stiles' throat, the whiskey-eyed boy careful not to push himself too far, Stiles swallowed around him and Derek suddenly became vocal.

“Oh, fuck, ah, ah,” he muttered, his fingers tightening in Stiles' hair, tugging on some of the strands. “Your mouth is fucking sinful,” he groaned, bucking forward and shoving himself farther down Stiles' throat, only to immediately try to pull back and splutter out an apology. "Shit, I -"

Stiles, refusing to have any of that, grabbed two handfuls of Derek's ass and pulled him closer, beginning to deep throat the man above him in a way that had his legs shaking and words spilling out of his lips like a prayer.

“Holy shit, Stiles, your mouth, oh – oh god, I'm going to –“ and then Derek was coming down Stiles' throat, the latter swallowing it down without any hesitation, enjoying the way Derek fell apart, slumping against the car as he rode out his orgasm.

Stiles caught sight of Derek's downcast eyes, hooded and filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place and would absolutely demand an explanation for later, and that look alone was enough for Stiles to shoot off in his own pants, soaking his boxers and jeans in a grossly satisfying way.

When the two could manage to walk on their shaky legs, they climbed back into the car and slumped against the seats, Stiles reaching a hand over to tentatively thread his fingers with Derek's. When Derek glanced over at him, his hand pausing in turning the key in the ignition so that he could press a quick kiss to Stiles' lips, Stiles knew everything had changed.

Maybe, finally, his days of pining were over.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come send me tumblr prompts because I want to write more fic but I suck at ideas: http://summerogers.tumblr.com


End file.
